Reno-What Makes a Man: Revenge
by SilkenNightmare
Summary: Young Reno. This is the second in the series, you might want to read the first one, well, first.. Semi-graphic violence. Um what else is there to say?


Disclaimer: I don't own Reno or FFVII, or anything else for that matter.  
AN: I know this is pathetic, but I did try. Reno's maybe 10 in this, and for this one I DO recommend reading the first in the series (hate) so that you understand some of his reasoning, I'll try to make the next one stand by itself though, I promise.   
(Added at a later date):Ok, I've gone over this thing, like 200 times, and have finally said 'what the hell' and decided to post it. Sorry if it sucks.   
  
  


  
  


Reno- What Makes a Man: Revenge  
  
  
  


_"Atonement, gentlemen,"_- Nelson, Flatliners  
  
  


Reno coughed roughly as he walked through the frigid air, anxious to be home. He was actually looking forward to seeing the other boys, with their messy hair and too thin bodies.  
  
He rubbed a new cut on his arm thoughtfully, it wasn't very deep, but he knew he should disinfect it, out here a scratch could turn deadly, and he was in too good a mood to die right now.  
  
He reached the hovel his gang was calling home and pushed his way in. None of the boys acknowledged him as he walked past, which was no surprise really; he was the youngest of them all by at least two years.  
  
He skipped up the rotted stairs and into the back room, pulling out a plastic baggy as he went. "Hey, Lancer. I got the stuff," He smiled proudly, seeking approval without knowing why.  
  
A young man came forward from the darkness, he was scarred and pale, but powerful looking, "Ah, good job, kiddo." He smiled at Reno, and his teeth flashed. "How'd work go today?" He asked, taking the baggy and tossing it up and down.  
  
"Aw, not so good," Reno shrugged, but did not look away.   
  
"No? I'm surprised," Lancer said, with a true smile, "God knows you're the prettiest boy out here."   
  
Yeah, maybe that's why everyone hates me, Reno thought to himself, and turned to go.  
  
"Oh, yeah, Kasim was lookin' for ya earlier."  
  
Reno looked up, "Really?" but Lancer had already moved away.   
  
Kasim was the closest thing to a friend Reno had in the gang. He was a tall, thin and sad, but he was also kind, and despite the fairly large age difference, five years, he treated Reno well.  
  
In an even better mood, and forgetting his cut, Reno flew back down the stairs. He found Kasim out back, watching the sky.   
  
"Hey, Kaz! Lancer said you were looking for me?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah," The tall boy looked down at him, thoughtful expression on his face.  
  
"Well. What's up?" Reno asked.   
  
"I, well." The older boy took a breath, ran a hand through his hair.   
  
Reno watched him intently, Kasim rarely puttered around.   
  
"Look," He finally said, "Daniel picked some guy's pocket today down by the bar." Kasim pulled something out of his own pocket, "The name, the I.D… I wasn't sure. So, so I decided I'd better show you. Y'know, instead of just taking care of it." He pressed a black leather wallet into Reno's hands, "I'm, I'm sorry."  
  
Confused and frightened, Reno took the wallet, "This is bad?" He asked, sincerely, just before flipping it open.   
  
"Yeah," Kasim answered, in sync with Reno's shocked gasp. "Yeah."   
  
Reno's stared at the picture on the drivers license for a second, before beginning to read rapidly. "Apartment C, Desmond St…" he muttered softly to himself before dropping the wallet into the dirt and stalking off, back towards the hideout.   
  
"Hey, kiddo," Kasim called to Reno's retreating form, "You want me to handle it?"   
  
"No. No, I don't want!" Reno snarled, walking faster.  
  
"Where ya goin', Reno?" Kasim asked, almost desperately, stretching his arm out, as if it grab the boy, though he was already out of reach.  
  
"To get a gun."   
  
***  
Reno found Desmond Street easily enough, and apartment C, he was disgusted to realize that it was actually one of the better places in the sector 2 slums. Still, knocking the door in was easy enough.  
  
The man in the living room froze as Reno walked over the splintered remains of his door. His eyes widened, and he looked about to say something. That was when Reno raised the gun, a small revolver given to him by Lancer, no questions asked. The man's eyes widened more, "You-"  
  
Reno noted with detached pleasure that his arm was completely steady as he pulled the trigger twice, in rapid succession. The first bullet shattered the man's kneecap, the second buried itself in his thigh. The man was screaming.   
  
Reno smiled smugly, eyes shining. He told the man all he needed to know with those gleaming eyes, that no one would answer his screams and wails for help, no matter how long or how loud they were. The eyes held a glint possessed only by killers and dead men, and the man recognized it, recognized the boy before him; and he howled even louder.  
  
Only after Reno saw the horror take hold in the man's face, the terrible fear, only after the man crawled to his feet apologizing, promising, praying, and finally begging for pity did Reno finally kill him.  
  
He smiled the whole time.   
  
He walked out of the house, blood on his shoes, and away into the cool evening. He was coughing slightly, and hoping fervently that one of his clients hadn't given him AIDS or something.   
  
Behind him, his father lay dead in a pool of blood, eyes wide and glassy.   
  
  



End file.
